Scars
by lily-felix-felicis
Summary: Ginny's POV after the final battle.
1. Chapter 1

I must confess that after the final battle I did become a bit overprotective of Harry. It was against my better judgement as I knew he wanted his own space, but I couldn't help it. Here was the man (_boy?_) of my dreams, slowly turning into something remarkably like an old war veteran – I had to protect him.

Ronald told me all about Harry's nightmares (he's easy to break when you know how) – how he'd awake to see Harry hunched up in bed, his knees tucked up to his chin as he rocked backwards and forwards, shivering and muttering to himself with a wild look in his eyes. Sometimes I could hear him cry out in his sleep; everyone in the Burrow probably could. He'd either be screaming in terror, crying like his lungs were about to burst out of his chest or gasping for air like a drowning man. I couldn't let him suffer any more than he already had. I couldn't let him cut himself off from the rest of the world. Unfortunately, Harry seemed bent on doing exactly that.

I don't blame him in the slightest for what happened to Fred and Tonks and Remus and all the others that died in the war. Everyone had a choice didn't they? They all chose to fight despite knowing that the consequences could be fatal. But Harry was too deeply buried under all the grief, guilt and trauma to realise that, and even if he did I'm sure he would still blame himself anyway. I found myself becoming more and more depressed as I watched Harry slowly cut himself away from fellow human beings. Not even Ron or Hermione could reach him anymore. Everyone who was staying at the Burrow tried to help. Mum grew anxious at how thin Harry was getting so she took to spoon-feeding him soup. In normal circumstances the Harry I knew would be mortified but these circumstances were far from normal. I don't think he even realised what Mum was feeding him, let alone recognised that she was actually sitting there next to him.

His eyes became distant; they looked _through_ you instead of _at_ you, and they started to fade. I know that sounds stupid – how can your eye colour fade? But it's true. Harry's brilliant emerald green eyes grew duller by the day and when I looked into them I didn't know who he was anymore. I began to forget who _I _was. My life was being slowly ripped to shreds and I couldn't stop it.

While lying in my bed at Hogwarts in my sixth year I fantasized about the future. It would always take me ages to fall asleep for worrying about Harry so I started imagining what our lives could be like if he defeated You-Know-Who. No, _when _he defeated You-Know-Who. I was sure that Harry would achieve it - it was his destiny after all, that dusty old sphere had told him that much. Yeah it had also said about how he could die as well but that wasn't going to happen, my Harry wouldn't accept defeat – he'd keep fighting no matter what. He'd already proved that. I admired him so much, the way he kept on living and fighting even after James, Lily, Sirius and Dumbledore had all died to protect him. I trusted him, I thought I knew him. I knew he would defeat You-Know-Who and I was right about that.

I dreamed about how we'd get married in the orchard like Bill and Fleur or on a beach with waves and a beautiful sunset. Or just in a simple field maybe, I've never been one for lavish clothes and decorations. Harry's the same so the simpler the better. I dreamt about how we'd have children, a girl and a boy maybe. And how we'd live somewhere remote where we couldn't be bothered by admirers of The Chosen One. I had our whole life planned out and I couldn't wait to see Harry again and begin our future.


	2. Chapter 2

_I had our whole life planned out and I couldn't wait to see Harry again and begin our future._

That's why it was such a shock to see Harry after the final battle so dejected and depleted. I watched him from across the half-demolished Great Hall as wizards, witches, students and house elves crowded around him to thank him, praise him, clasp his hands and cry all over him – literally. I was waiting for him to slip away for some peace and quiet (as I knew he would at some point) so I could follow him and we could have some time together alone. I hadn't seen him for nearly a whole year and I missed him terribly.

When I heard Luna cry out and saw Harry slip under his Invisibility Cloak I was about to jump up and try and follow his footprints in the dusty floor when I glanced at Ron and Hermione. I saw them start slightly and turn round to look at thin air. I then watched as they walked out the Hall together, apparently alone. It hurt. It hurt that Harry had chosen to talk to them and not me. They'd been together for nearly a whole year and still they were sneaking away, keeping secrets. I sighed and rested my head on Mum's shoulder again. It had been a long time since I could do this and magically feel better but I tried it again anyway. It didn't work.

While I was sitting like that and thinking, it was then that I started to panic. Maybe he was ignoring me for a reason. Maybe he didn't want to speak to me. Why? Because…maybe, maybe he didn't like me anymore. All those months apart might have made him think, made him realise that he didn't really need me. I'd told him that I'd be waiting for him when he got back but maybe he didn't believe me, maybe he wasn't going to come back. Ever. I gasped and sat upright, clamping my hand over my mouth. No. My Harry. _My _Harry. He had to come back. He'd promised. He loved me. Didn't he? Well no he'd never actually said that but he _liked _me! Surely those months together couldn't have meant nothing to him.

"Ginny dear? What's wrong?"

Mum's words brought me back to reality. I realised I'd been digging my nails into my lips and staring at the wall in horror.

"What? Oh, nothing,"

"No, it's something,"

"What if Harry doesn't like me anymore?" I blurted out. I'm not one for beating about the bush. The words came out in a rush and I felt myself breaking down as the first tears leaked out of my eyes.

"Oh Ginny dear, what makes you think that?" asked Mum, wrapping her arms around me and giving me one of her massive hugs.

"Just…a stupid…thing…really," I say between sobs and wiping my nose on Mum's dress. She didn't mind.

"Well what is it? I doubt it's stupid if you're getting all worked up like this,"

That's what was scary. I hardly ever cried. Not even when Fred and George would steal my toys when I was a feisty toddler. Not even when I got knocked down the stairs by Fred and George and their trunks. Not even when I got two bludgers to the head in Quidditch practice. Again, that was Fred and George. As a child I would fight back by biting them, hitting them or kicking them. Nowadays I would cast a Bat-Bogey Hex at them or give them my glare I reserved specially for them. I didn't cry when Harry broke up with me, okay I did cry a bit afterwards when I got back to the Burrow but that was only one night. Or two. But apart from then that was honestly the only time I'd cried for about 15 years and it was then that everything just seemed to pour out of me. The pains from loosing Sirius, Dumbledore, Remus, Tonks and Fred had simply built up and up and this sudden fear of Harry no longer liking me had acted as a trigger. Wham. No longer holding back.

Mum just held me and stroked my hair and whispered words of comfort I could no longer hear. Eventually I started to pull myself together. I was tough, feisty, couldn't-care-less Ginny. Not weak, moping, moaning Myrtle. The funny thing was that no one was looking at me at all. Only yesterday if anyone saw me crying they would be staring at me like I'd sprouted another head. But no one even glanced my way as I hiccupped myself back into a sitting position (I'd been squashing Mum for the last five minutes). I then realised that right now no one cared. Everyone was grieving and crying and screaming. And snoring if you're Aberforth. Wiping away the tell-tale tear tracks I turned and tried to smile at Mum but failed. Severely. She probably thought I had really bad toothache or something. She gripped my hands and looked into my bloodshot eyes and said gently,

"You don't need to worry. It's obvious how much he likes you and he's never going to throw all that away, I bet you're the only thing keeping him sane..." She trailed off and suddenly _her _eyes were full of tears.

"Don't you dare!" I yelped at her, frantically fanning my face. Because _that's _going to stop the tears and make me look normal. I stopped pretty quickly. "You can't fall apart too!" I then felt incredibly guilty. Of course she had the right to grieve. She'd just lost her son and some of her closest friends and instead of crying she had to comfort me because I'd broken down due to reasons that may not even be true. God I'm such a terrible daughter at times.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

"It's okay sweetie," she murmured, wiping her nose on her sleeve at the same time. Unfortunately I'd already used that sleeve but again, she didn't mind. "I just can't even imagine what Harry m…must be g…going through at the m…moment. And…George," Luckily, Dad came up at that moment and swept Mum into a big hug as she exploded into tears. I left them to it; I'm not that good at comforting people. I proved that with the poor little girl lying in the grass… I shook my head and tried to forget, but unfortunately those kinds of images ingrain themselves to your brain, to your very being. I pressed my palms into my eyes to try and stop the video playing behind them: friends being tortured by the Carrows, Luna being kidnapped, Bellatrix killing Remus, Bellatrix killing Tonks, Lavender's mutilated body, Colin's lifeless figure, the girl in the grass, Harry lying still and pale in Hagrid's arms… A hand grabbed my shoulder and I jumped away from it, barely realising that I was falling backwards. Different hands caught me, sat me down on the floor and leant me against a wall. Hands I knew and recognised, hands I'd wanted to feel again for months. I kept my eyes clamped shut with my hands, too afraid to face the present, too afraid of feeling more pain, too afraid that my hopes might be dashed, too afraid that my fears are true and that Harry has moved on.

"Are you okay?" The sound of his voice is like a punch in the chest. It's so deep and cracked with grief that I find it impossible to be angry with him. Well, almost impossible.

"Of course I'm bloody not okay!" I yell, slamming my hands down on the floor.

I was wondering where the old Ginny had gone.

I blink at the people crouched down in front of me and realise that Hermione and Ron are there too, but I only have eyes for the boy who caught me. The boy who asked if I was okay. The boy with the glasses and the lightning shaped scar.

"The first thing you say to me! The _first thing _you say to me!" I suddenly explode, hissing like Crookshanks when someone stands on his tail. I glare into Harry's perplexed eyes. "I haven't seen you for _months _and yet the first thing you say to me when it's all over is _'Are you okay?'_ like everything's _normal! _Ever since you left my life has been _hell! _Hogwarts wasn't Hogwarts; people were being tortured,_ I _was being tortured! I lived in constant fear for myself, my friends, my family, for you!" My voice broke on the last word and my eyes suddenly felt moist again. Furious at myself for showing signs of weakness I continued.

"I have been dreaming of seeing you again ever since you left. I was sure that you would come back! But when it's finally over you choose _them_ instead of me! Again!" I point wildly in Ron and Hermione's direction, never taking my eyes off Harry as my voice grew slightly more hysterical. "I was so scared but for the first time in ages it wasn't for your safety. I was scared because I thought you didn't like me anymore! I'd thought you'd moved on and didn't want me!" Tears stream down my dust-strewn face as I fight to stay in control of my emotions. All I can manage is a whisper,

"Is it true?"


End file.
